Tinker my Ride

I just spent five days in San Francisco and loved it. Why? Because my dumbass ran all over that town and saw most of the sights before dawn while traveling at about a 9:30 minute mile. That S.O.B. is hilly.

I attended a conference on Tinkering at the Exploratorium. For my dirty minded friends, and you know who you are, it is not like that at one of those places in San Francisco. It was about working with items in an experimental manner inside our children’s museums. Basically you set up a bunch of stuff and let kids create whatever they want. It might use gears, small motors, marbles, artwork, you name it. Then we went on to a tour of a place called the Crucible to see Tinkering in the real world. The Crucible is a non-profit educational facility that fosters a collaboration of Arts, Industry and Community. Through training in the fine and industrial arts, The Crucible promotes creative expression, reuse of materials and innovative design while serving as an accessible arts venue for the general public. Basically if you like to work with metals, glass, etc you can do it there on your own time. I thought the concept was awesome, even though the marketing director that gave us the tour made my ass twitch every time she opened her annoying mouth. But I digress.

There was an area in the Crucible where bikes were being remade, repaired, and even turned into art. A few of us thought a great idea would be to have a workshop at our museums called “Tinker my Ride”. You could have people bring in bikes, wagons, whatever. I immediately thought of my sisters ten speed that I borrowed without asking when I was ten.

I have always been a bit of a slow starter, and did not learn how to ride a bike until age ten. Once I finally mastered my ugly bike with the great big banana seat I started eyeing Cindy’s light blue ten speed. One Saturday I hauled ass (read casually rode) out of the garage before anyone else noticed and made my rounds in the neighborhood. Low and behold I saw the hottest boy in sixth grade mowing his lawn. Some things never change as even then I had NO FREAKING CLUE how to deal with the opposite sex. I just watched. I was still riding my bike past his yard and I was still watching him to the point my neck was straining. My neighborhood did not have curbs on its streets. Rather it just had concrete slopes from the edge of the street to the edge of the lawns. The next thing I know I hit the mailbox of the hottest boy in sixth grade and became airborne. Luckily his driveway broke my fall after I sailed over his mailbox. He stopped the mower and came to help me while I was in his driveway with bleeding legs and road rash all over my arms. My sister’s bike was simply put – beat to shit. I kept telling him I was fine and attempted to ride oh so casually away on the bike but the front tire was now in the shape of an “L” and would only go in circles. He offered to have his mom drive me home but I refused and carried my bike while limping down the road.

I think this set the tone for my future dealings with boys and men. Simply put, I AM SMOOTH.

Laugh

Through the past 17 years my husband and I have made each other laugh constantly. This is probably why it is 17 years and not 17 months. It was 19 years ago when he first made me giggle while sitting on his ice chest at the Sigma Alpha Epsilon house. No matter I was there on a date with another guy, which is just a mere detail. Next was two years of flirting every time we saw each other. He told me years later once he spotted me in Wal Mart and ran his cart all over the store trying to “accidentally” run into me on an aisle. I never knew he was there. Go figure. He also made me laugh so hard the night we actually saw each other in My Pleasure. It was a Thursday night and he was inviting me to something that weekend. I told him no since I was going home for the weekend for a special ceremony at my church back in Starkville, Mississippi. He asked me what church I attended and I told him I was Presbyterian. He said, “ Ewww Weee! And you are in a bar and wearing pants! I like your style!” I laughed out loud.
He was dead serious.
Two short months into our relationship came Christmas break which meant he went to Texarkana and I was back in Starkville. I awaited his call every night since my mother would not allow my sisters and me to call boys. (Now when he calls me every day at work and asks what I’m doing I say Working! Like I have nothing else to do all day but sit around and dream about him. My, how things change. ) There was a break in our phone calls since I was going on a business trip with my parents to San Antonio. The five day trip was wonderful until the flight home when I started feeling bad. By the time we landed I was in such a cold sweat I looked like I was carrying cocaine filled balloons somewhere in my body. Turns out the chicken I consumed the day before on the Riverwalk was undercooked. The family doctor also determined that I caught an additional stomach virus upon my return home, which resulted in four days from hell.
Chad, while still wearing his new relationship rose colored glasses, called on the last night of my trip to the underworld. Since I was a sweating gelatinous mass on my mother’s bathroom floor, Chad spoke only to my mother. The conversation went like this:
“Well she’s had horrible vomiting and hellacious diarrhea for 4 days. I mean horrible. She threw up all over her clothes so she’s been naked in the bed or on the floor of the bathroom. She even threw up on me! She actually passed out on the kitchen floor trying to get some Sprite one night and one of her sisters found her on the floor. Chad, I have to let you go. Her father just got back from the pharmacy with her suppository. I’m sure she should feel better by tomorrow. Why don’t you call back then.”
Chad said he laughed until he cried. THANKS MOM!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you feel a little better about yourself.